


Assault Recon

by gyromitra



Series: Drabble Things that might be continued or not [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: It's bad, M/M, and new league on PoE, dealing with writer's block, f.e.a.r.!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-30 04:54:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10154108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyromitra/pseuds/gyromitra
Summary: F.E.A.R. thingy because I finally figured out how to make it. It's bad, you have been warned.!This one is being written: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503774 as Synchronicity!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Working out the writer's block. The important characters: Sombra as Paxton, Jesse as Point Man, Amelie as Aristide, Gerard as Vanek, Angela as Harlan/The Creep, Talon as ATC. A collection of somethings.  
> In my native language, there IS a term that basically means reconnaissance by (a way of using live) weapons, thus keeping Assault Recon.

The sky is on fire, the rushing clouds washed in crimson rumble with voices of many, and smoldering ash clogs the air, but Jack reaches out with his hand towards the disappearing back of a man he feels he should know – even if he is not sure this is a man, a human, because no human has claws dripping with blood.

Everything is rubble and destruction, death and agony, twisted life and undeath springing up in tangled boughs ripping streets and buildings alike as he falls into a molten blaze in his chase, only to wake up to a lullaby that brings up something buried deep and forgotten.

“Nice of you to join us, sunshine,” red eyes morph into brown, almost black, and Jack releases the breath caught in his throat when Lena elbows Genji and pushes him back.

“Down, dragon boy, I need to check Jack’s…” She fiddles with something on the side of his visor. “Okay, luv, you’re good to go.”

“Sure, sure, baby. And why the fuck are we supposed to go after that Lacroix babe?” Genji rolls his eyes, stretching.

“Don’t question orders. Execute them,” Winston gets up. “Lena?”

“Okay, dears, we’re going to put Amelie Lacroix, hiding out in her luxurious apartment, into our custody. You know, the president of Talon corporation, and they have their finger in so many pies they actually run out of hands.”

“Protective custody,” Winston adds.

“Oh boy, this is going to be so much fun,” Genji snorts, flicking his fingers.

“With the bloodbath that went down in Talon headquarters, which she is tied to directly, we are expecting resistance,” Hanzo mutters under his breath.

“We are doing it by the book,” Winston cuts in, irritation clear in his voice.

“Because,” Lena chirpily adds, “we think that the head honchos at Talon will try to keep her real quiet if anything. If you know what I mean. Chop-chop quiet. Glasgow smile quie…”

“Enough, Lena,” Winston grumbles when APC stops. “You come with me, Hanzo with Reinhardt, and you, Genji, with Jack.”

“Fuck it, why do I have to go with him?” Jack sighs in agreement.

“Because you’re being a luv, as usual,” Lena giggles, jumping out. And Jack… Jack has a very bad feeling about this all as his HUD flickers.

*

There is a certain dreamlike quality to the column of fire that rises into the sky and the blast wave feels like a caress as the red eyes turn towards him.

“Always rushing in, Sunshine.”

Jack knows he should not survive this, the wind, the debris, the heat, but somehow he hears Lacroix’s level voice above as his vision cuts out.

“We need to run the containment protocol.”

*

“He’s going into cardiac,” one of the surgeons mentions at the pain that blossoms in his chest. “Give him two hundred for a start.”

Somehow, Jack sees himself on that table, all tinted in blood-red, and monsters tear at his flesh. It’s someone else looking.

*

The explosion was real. It happened, the electromagnetic storm painting the sky visible through glass roof with pastel colors is a proof of that and Jack knows he should be blind. He stared right into the fiery red inferno.

Then maybe he is blind as he follows a vaguely human visage, a truly more animalistic thing with claws dripping blood, through the battlefield the hospital has become.

Soon he realizes that the windows are merely screens, broken, repeating a flashing image of the artificial sky. They are underground.

*

“Oh, thank god, Jack, here,” Lena calls him over the communicator.

“Sergeant Morrison, come, step into the chamber,” Lacroix adds on the intercom. ‘Said the spider to the fly’, Jack chuckles darkly to himself just as he does what he is told.

“Amelie, uh, just asking, but are his lil swimmers going to be okay after that?” God, leave it to Lena, to ask the important and cringe-worthy questions.

“That, Cherie, should be the least of our concerns.”

The smell of ozone hits his nose and Jack can feel the hairs on his arms rise with static electricity. Everything goes to shit, the doors on the other side of the room blast open with an explosive charge, and the world becomes dreamlike again as the intruders, the ones hunting them, turn their guns at each other, dark tendrils of something living wrenching their hands and crushing them at the same time.

He thinks he is bleeding as he falls down.

“What’s the matter, Sunshine?” The beast by the tree asks, coiled in darkness, too many teeth and eyes burning red twitching in the shuddering mass crawling along the fluid surface. The claws move over his face. “Aren’t you getting too close to the fire for the comfort?”

“Have I ever stepped out of it?” It ripples in mirth.

“You were free for a while,” the darkness melts against him and yields under his fingers.

“I think I forgot a lot,” Jack whispers looking into ‘J’ and ‘G’ carved into the bark.

“Harbinger project. Only explanation why la poule brought you here at all,” Gerard turns back. “Finish it up.”

He braces for the pain but something almost physical pulls him back and throws him to the ground. The rest is training, repetition and that little thing that refuses to be satiated with spilled blood in the back of his mind.

*

“You mean Shrike. As in, the Shrike?” Lena giggles. “And you are helping us now why?”

“Because,” the garbled voice on the other side answers, “if Morrison gets his ass blown up, there will be nothing to stop Reaper.”

“Right. Reaper.”

“Don’t joke around, girl. This monster can, and will, bring the end of the world as we know it. The Harbinger is the only thing that can stop it and the little monsters they spawned out of it.”

The Shrike speaks as if he knows. But he knows nothing, not really. Jack feels his lips curl up a little bit when he sees the apparition, a bloodied long-limbed monster, stalking along the wall after the panicking soldiers.

Stop it? No. No-one can. No-one will.

“I see you.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing, Lena. How’s your status?”

*

He is doing pretty much all right in the department of not dying immediately when his situation, after a brief respite, takes a nose dive. The woman in purples and violets rips the withered inhuman creature from the restraints with the ethereal strings expanding from her fingers.

“My Los Muertos, my Replicas, he dared, he dared to belittle them with this? This wretched fake? How many they made in secrecy?” Jack won’t question why his adversaries stopped and now waver on their legs with rifles pointing to the ground. He reloads and catches his breath, keeping one eye on the screen.

“Feeling obsolete, bitch?” A voice with a thick accent drawls over the other set of speakers.

“I’ll show you obsolete, dear brother of mine, but first,” she turns to the camera, ”you, you killed so many of them, and now I’ll show what they are when they are with me.”

Talon soldiers steady as one and Jack huddles behind the burned out wreck of a car frame when shots ricochet on metal. Shit. There’s too many of them, and now they move together with purpose, leaving him no room to act. One bullet singes his cheek when it perforates his temporary cover, little shavings of metal bite his skin. Jack closes his eyes when he hears them circle around from both sides.

“Do you remember your training, Sunshine?”

The training won’t help him here, not with the loadout he has now at his disposal, only the rifle and no grenades, so Jack dives further away, behind the brick wall, and prepares to make his last stand count. The training range is still closed down and he can’t force his way through the reinforced concrete of the bunker he now faces.

“Do you remember your training?” The beast waiting by the tree asks again when the sting of a lucky shot grips his side.

“I remember I should be afraid of you. I’m not.”

“Good, Sunshine. It makes it easier then,” Reaper smiles and all his mouths gleam with sharp teeth. The sound distorts and deepens, little chips of red brick sail slowly in the air and wet stringy darkness tugs at the corners of his vision. Jack jumps out of his cover and moves to the side.

Bullets ruffle his hair when everything around decelerates – or is it only just him that acts that fast, the rifle switching from target to target and releasing short bursts with deadly precision, the Talon soldiers floating to the ground before even reacting.

“Transport hatch malfunctioned,” the oily voice points out and Jack does not wait, sliding on the ground and slipping in as it closes shut behind him. He rolls on the floor and stops on his knees violently retching with an empty stomach. “Easy now, Sunshine,” claws rest on the nape of his neck almost non-threatening, but the points dig into his skin dangerously. “You have to go, now.”

So Jack wipes lips with the back of his hand and pushes himself upwards on the rifle. Something calls him to move forward, an almost animal urge to escape from the long-limbed monstrosity that creeps behind his – their – every step.

“I see you.” This time in his voice there is no smile, only hard determination.

*

“Ma’am.” Amelie regards the other woman with a certain interest.

“Yes, doctor Ziegler?”

“We had nine seconds long synchronization event,” the blonde taps her pad and the screen lights up with diagrams of two lines spiking suddenly together and coming close, almost forming one for a brief moment. “With the subject seventy-six.”

“The Harbinger works.”

“There was an immediate desynchronization,” Angela purses her lips.

“Doctor, I need not remind you the Reaper project is vital to Talon,” Amelie smiles coyly. “And the matter of Reaper syncing to the subject seventy-six is concerning, but not overly alarming. Who is better to contain and control Reaper than the one Replica prototype that survived the Zurich fiasco?”

“If you say so, ma’am, but do consider who will come out on top, the replica or the original.”

“As long as we control seventy-six, it won’t matter.”


End file.
